The Law vs. the Piano My father was a lawyer with no sons, so he decided that his older daughter, Susie, would follow his career and take over his business when he died. When Susie was in kindergarten, he began to work on her: "Susie," he would say, "you will never have to worry about a thing, for I have paved all the roads for you. I have done all the dirty work in establishing a good business in law, and all you will have to do is take it over." By the time Susie could read and write, my father read law books to her at bedtime. The dull passages lulled her to sleep, but some of the legal terms became fixed in her mind. He enjoyed having her show off to visitors in his office and his business associates were amazed at her recitations of difficult passages. Susie's brainwashing continued through her high school years, and when she finished high school, she obediently followed my father to the university where he guided her into the first-semester courses needed to enter Law School. Everything went smoothly for a while, and no one in the family was aware of the slow change that came over Susie, although she did seem to show poor understanding of law sometimes. One day, Susie announced that she would like to take piano lessons. Dad, a supporter of all forms of education, did not oppose her wishes. He just reminded her that one lesson a week would be enough considering the heavy schedule she kept at the university. Susie seemed pleased and did not argue. A piano teacher was chosen, an old, semi-retired lady, who came every Friday afternoon for 45 minutes. We all suspected that Dad agreed to that hour because the piano would be heard in his office next door at an hour when few clients would be present. Soon we became accustomed to the do-re-mi's—up and down the scale, down and up the scale. The added noise was not disturbing at the beginning because Susie practiced only half an hour each day, but gradually the practicing increased. Slowly but surely it began to interrupt the conversations between Dad and his clients next door when Susie gradually extended her practicing to several hours per day. Finally, my father realized that as the piano playing had increased, the study of Law had decreased. The following excitement threw the Law Office and the entire family into disorder. Such scenes were seen now and then: "Susie," my father would shout, "good lawyers make good money and enjoy the secure future I have set up for you." Weeping wildly, Susie would respond, "But I like piano. I want to be a concert pianist." My mother made many useless attempts to make peace between them, but the battle continued. "Su-u-u-san," my father would shout slowly but forcefully, "Law—will—give—you—a—secure—and—profitable—future. Be—practical. Be—reasonable." But Susie was happy only when she was absorbed in music and was utterly miserable among her law books. She continued to respond simply, "I do not like law; I like to play the piano." In the end, my father would thunder like an echoing drum: "Reason. That's what you should use. REASON," and end the argument by slamming the door as he went back to his office. Many tears later—with my seventy-year-old grandmother's help—there was a compromise. Susie agreed to continue in Law School until she could complete her Law Certificate, which involved three years. She would, however, continue to take piano lessons and to practice as often as her energy and that of the listeners at home would permit. Susie stuck to her part of the compromise, and she was twenty-two years old when she completed requirements for the degree in Law. My father was so proud that he organized a champagne party and invited all his friends. He was ready to stand by Susie's side, to greet well-meaning friends and relatives, and to receive the traditional compliments as he shook hands with those who sang praises to his wisdom in guiding his daughter toward a promising career in Law. But Susie became quite ill and began vomiting before the guests arrived. Mother's medicine did not help. Grandmother's prayers did not help. Even Susie could not help, no matter how much she wanted to, for in her heart she knew she was not going to fulfill her father's dream: She intended to become a concert pianist. And she did just that. Years later, after Susie became a concert pianist of some fame and a visiting lecturer at one of the best universities on the East Coast, Father was almost as proud of her as he would have been to see her a lawyer. But he never did admit that Susie is a reasonable woman.